To the Moon
by Flailingkittylover
Summary: There in the sky lives a scar produced by the passing war. For days it's loomed over Maka and Soul hopes his help may further motivate his meister to carry out her last words to Crona. Implied Crona/Maka. Mangaverse.


**I couldn't take it anymore, and as a result of said restlessness, this was made.**

**I don't have much experience with interactions between Maka and Soul, so hopefully this will be some good practice time for me.**

**Inspiration: A Thousand Years-Christina Perri.**

* * *

Wisps of cool, desert air stirred Maka's pigtails. A hand supported her cheek, elbow relaxing on the balustrade of one of Shibusen's many balconies; gazing down from the tall height the academy stood upon offered an entrancing bird's eye view of the celebration below.

A smile touched her lips. The mass of people dancing and cheering had been embracing their freedom from the Kishin's wrath for days now. So much so that she had to find refuge_ here _just to take a break from the eccentric Patty who tried to push her onto the dance floor and elude the loud, boastful ravings from Black Star about the new battle scars he donned, explaining how he received them through what sounded like an old man spouting off tall-tales.

Death City itself practically beamed with happiness, making it glow within the dark, empty desert the city was built upon; the emotion was infectious, as it managed to pass into Maka. The joy and relief of the Kishin's defeat was the only heart-filling accomplishment coming close to when Soul finally became a Death Scythe. The fight was over, her friends and innocents were safe; no warrior could ask for a better result.

…At least, that was the lie feeding her energy to wear a mask and celebrate with everyone. It briefly alleviated the rankling void pitted deep in her heart, but pain can be blocked off for only so long.

With her eyes leaving the citizens, Maka dared peer up into the night sky. Had it not been for the many stars acting like floating candle lights, seeing the hulking, circular mass of black would be much more difficult to find; it nearly camouflaged into the evening's depths.

And in there, incarcerated in a tomb of solidified blood, was an absentee in the city's celebration; her friend who most people seemed more_ happy_ about being stuck within a hard-shell harboring hell rather than rejoicing with them. That cold, disgusting mindset sent Maka's hands scrunching together, gloves whining from her tight grip.

Losing someone precious was a burden every fighter must bear, whether it was the grieving caused by a decision made by the fallen or promises left unfulfilled due to one of life's many table-turners, but she never thought the cavity of saddened guilt aching her chest could _burn_ this much…

Suffering and bloodshed was the only language Crona spoke or understood before they met, and only through an understanding between them- the matching of similarly neglected wavelengths-could Crona's eyes clear and _see_ the bright world resting everywhere, even experience it for a while.

Then the world tumbled into chaos, evil resurfaced, and Medusa cast her blindfold of trickery and manipulation to draw Crona away from Shibusen, falling back into her clutches.

Inner veins smoldered with frustration, muscles turning taut in the knowing that she tried; God, she_ tried_ to bring Crona back, to find them, tore this world and its inhabitants apart with her Soul Perception until her body buckled from exhaustion. Then when her stupid brain finally decided to _work _and guided her to the place where their paths first crossed, horror and dread welcomed her, seeing Crona be consumed in the abyss that was their own madness.

Yet aside from the carnage Crona committed in Russia, the killing of their mother and absorbing of the Kishin, the real Crona was still somewhere in that clouded mind. She sensed it, cut into Asura to prove she was right… and Crona _was_. Her heart pounded energetically when she and Soul found Crona still hanging on within Asura; the Demon Swordsman never did go down easily, she knew that from experience…and even more so in this moment.

Now because of her lacking to come up with a better plan, because she couldn't find Crona when Medusa took them or bring light back to their eyes while at the church, a decision was made. Crona fought back, sacrificed themselves to be locked in a prison to contain a merciless monster's rampage.

Her arms folded over the balustrade, head dropping to rest her forehead on her forearms. Worry cracked the façade she'd worn throughout the party and her shoulders shook.

Just how much was Crona _suffering_ up there? She knew to some degree they had to be; a being like the Kishin was not unyielding in any sort of torturous pain, a gut-clenching knowledge of hers that made her teeth grind together.

Was there even a _break_ from the horrors Crona was faced with? And was Ragnorak helping in protecting his meister? Or…was even he fighting to keep the shell where they were both buried within standing?

There were too many questions, mysteries lacking answers that wounded Maka's comfort. Chaotic swarms of possibilities moved in her head, painful pangs aching her temples, and that damned cheerful music playing was _not helping_.

Fighting against hot tears wanting to spill over, Maka took in a shuddery breath. She looked to the sky again.

She had to go back, she said she would, gave her _word_. Waiting hours or minutes was time she couldn't spend wasting anymore. Crona was fighting alone for nearly a week now and she couldn't allow this imprisonment to continue any longer.

"So here's where you've been hiding." a voice said. Maka's eyes shot open. She lifted her head to the balcony's entry way, finding Soul leaning against the arched doorframe. "Jeez, you look like a moping kid sitting in the corner because you got picked last for the sports teams. Not cool, not cool at _all_."

Maka blinked before steeling herself, putting back her shoulders with a frown. "Shut up, I do not. And I can go wherever I want to; you and I aren't glued to the hip. Home certainly isn't safe to hide. Have you tried running or successfully getting away from a drunk Patty or Black Star? It's like they have a tracking device of where I am in my _skin_."

"Yes, I do, because when you left _I _had to deal with them. And I learned if you lock Patty in a room with a six-pack and give Black Star a new toy to help tell his stories, you'll get enough time to run."

"Either way, prepare yourself for the worst. In due time, I'm sure they'll go back on their adventure to find us."

Soul responded with a small, agreeing chuckle and soon afterwards, silence filled the distance between them. Maka turned her attention over the city again, and Soul kept a careful eye on his meister. He'd be a pretty shitty partner if he couldn't tell when something was bothering her, and her rigid stance and glazing of her eyes spoke volumes to him.

He walked to Maka's side, hands tucked in his pockets. "It's been a few days now." he started. He kept his voice careful, gentle. "You sure you don't want to talk?"

Maka's eyes remained over the city. "About?"

"You know what about."

A frown deepened on her face. "You should already know how I feel about it. It's obvious. Are you saying you want me to go into _depth_ of how upset I am?"

"I know how upset you are. That's why I wanted to know if you needed an ear to hear you out. You know you've always got one." Blood-red pools flickered up to the black orb sitting in the sky. "I may not have known Crona like you did, but it was clear to everyone how close you two were. Leaving behind a person who you fought so hard to bring back can't be easy."

"Really? I had no idea. Guess I have to thank you for that _incredibly_ well thought out deducement, Sherlock."

Where Maka expected the typical irritated rumbling rattle his throat, Soul sighed instead. He leaned his lower back on the banister, folding his arms across his chest. "Just thought I'd give it a try, that's all."

The sound of the celebration's music became the only noise amongst them after their conversation went dead. Amidst the music filling their background, a dramatic piano piece began battling the superior sound, a rowdy voice speaking loud into a microphone paired with it.

Maka's brow twitched, seeing Soul was next to her, so that could only mean one other thing. "Great." she groused. "Black Star's at it again. I was hoping he wouldn't perform without his right-hand pianist, but I guess he's forced someone else to add music to his act."

Shark-like pearly whites shone with Soul's smirk. "And to think I've been replaced so easily. Looks like I'm going to have to have a little heart to heart talk with him; I'm almost _hurt_."

She rolled her eyes. It was entertaining at first; hell, she didn't even _care_ and was happy to see him celebrating so energetically, but Black Star continuous desire for attention drained her and possibly half the city with his non-stop story-tellings. It was a riot to Soul at first too, but the crowds grew larger as Black Star carried on, and he'd never been one for large gatherings of people, or playing in public for that matter. He must have forced some other poor sucker into fueling the sounds to his theatrical acts.

His meister shook her head while Soul grinned, listening to a lively piece that sounded like it belonged in a fight scene to an action movie. Black Star may have been acting out a battle sequence again.

"Can he make those groans and grunts any _louder_?" Maka slapped her hand to her forehead, embarrassed. "It just sounds incredibly awkward if we're not watching him. No, it just sounds awkward _period_."

"Which would you prefer? Fighting noises, or the sounds and voices he made when he acted out the time we changed genders in the Book of Eibon?"

Both of them shuddered. The image of Black Star with small watermelons tucked in his shirt making horrendously lustful noises had been seared into their memory. Then when he tried to choppily act out the rest of the group's dialogue and reactions, he managed to make the memory even _more_ horrifying to remember.

"It's a bit much." Soul said. "That's for sure. But I think he's just enjoying himself. Not many get to talk about the kinds of adventures we've had."

Maka made a neutral hum and gazed out into the borders of the desert. A verbal silence visited them once more.

A possible intermission of stuffing himself with more food stopped Black Star's performance, allowing the softer slow dance tune of its competitor to fill the city. Listening to a piece with a calming flow was better than the loud beats of partying, however, it didn't dispel the awkwardness of loitering on the balcony with Soul, no words being said between them. Maka sighed, seeing he was chaperoning her again, whether she had a say so or not.

Might as well go home.

When Maka turned to face her weapon, her brow arched curiously. She noticed Soul's eyes were closed, sharp smirk softer, like he was thinking of something pleasant.

"And what's got you caught in a daydream?"Maka asked.

His smirk curled snidely, peaking one eye open. "If you're so curious, maybe you should have been a little nicer when I asked you earlier. Can't say I'm feeling in the generous mood to open up so easily now."

A bone-cracking flogging with her book was Soul's reward and he howled out in pain, holding his dented head. "_Damn it_! Seriously? You really can't take a_ joke_, can you?"

Maka pouted snootily while Soul nursed his head. "Excuse me for being curious, jerk. See if I ask you again."

Soul exhaled, leaning back on the balustrade. More soft melodies filled the silence before one of them spoke again.

The scythe snorted amusedly, shaking his head. "Black Star's damn theatrics remind me of Granny. Normal story-telling wasn't good enough for a multi-instrumentalist prodigy like her; she just_ had_ to add music into the mix while she read or acted out characters to Wes and I, whether it was a drama or a sappy romance. I guess senile brains don't register the fact that grand_sons _don't want to hear girly tales."

Slowly, a small smile curled up on Maka's lips, tilting her head curiously. She hoped her ongoing silence and smile would urge Soul to tell her more of the family he hardly spoke of, and it was nice to know that somewhere in the confines from where he locked away his past, fond memories existed.

"She used a song like this with her cello once. I think it gave Wes the inspiration to play a string instrument; they always did play passionately when they imagine a tune to a story they like." Soul paused. He tilted his head back to look into the sky, remembering when Wes and he walked in on her one day, the face she wore as her soul was spoken through the fingers and bow moving on the cello's strings. Even though she quickly recovered her joy at seeing them and his young self was reluctant to hear, she let them know through a story of what her regret felt like. "She used this kind of forlorn melody in some folktale about the sun and moon. How during an eclipse is only time they can be together and be happy. But reality is painful, and as much as the moon needs the sun, they can't be together; their purposes are simply too different. And if they are together, it's never for long." His eyebrows lowered, voice turning quiet. "I guess Granny had a good understanding of that line meant. The rich life always is cruel in that kind of way."

In the corner of his eye, Soul saw Maka's smile slowly shift into a sympathetic face, understanding. He thought back to his aging grandmother, remembering that story and it clicked in his head of why she was the only one of his family members to _smile_ as widely as she did when he admitted he was to attend Shibusen.

He was breaking free from a tradition that kept her chained; she must have been happy he didn't follow like she did.

Quiet furthered a little longer before Maka finally commented, "Well, your grandmother seems like an interesting and very kind woman…but she's into a_ very_ typical love story."

Her weapon chuckled. "Oh believe me, I know. It's the sappy Romeo and Juliet cliché, but that's the kind of lame stories you read, so I thought you'd understand."

Maka's book collided with Soul's head again, knocking him to the floor. A vein pulsed in her temple as Soul's eyes spun and drool streamed out of his mouth. She shut her eyes to return it back into the evening sky.

Standing here chatting or staring off into space was getting her nowhere. All she had done for the passing days was sulk and whine of what should have been, and it's so damn _tiring_ to wallow on past failures. Soul was right here with her; if they really wanted to, maybe they could try and set Crona free right_ now..._

"Screw this." She said, voice stern and determined. "This party has been going on for too long. I'm sick of waiting. We need to go _now_."

Soul's eyes swerved down to hers, countenance stolid. "If you're talking about where I think you are, I'm all for it. But don't you think we should get some back up or a plan going first? Going in blindly could add insult to injury."

"We'll find Stein. I'm sure a person like him can stay away from his lab only for so long, and with Medusa's research recovered, he _has_ to have found some way to get Crona out by now. So let's go find out what he knows."

Maka moved to walk away before a firm grasping from Soul took hold of her arm. "Maka, I'll follow you wherever you go; you know that already. But when we _do _get inside of the moon...what's your plan then? Crona encased themselves with Asura for_ you_. You think just because we finally got in, Crona will up and leave without the risk of the Kishin breaking free? Come back to a place where both Crona and Ragnorak will be despised rather than welcomed?"

"I know that already," she snapped, taking her arm away. "_All_ of that. I'd be an idiot if I didn't." She stopped for a second, inhaling a deep breath. "But I don't care what they think, and I don't care if I have to drag Crona out by the _ear_. I'll do everything I can do so they can live the way they should have been able to."

"And if the citizen's get in the way of how Crona _should_ live? How will that go down?"

"They won't, because I'll be there as back up. And if anyone has a _problem_ with that or tries to get in the way, I don't mind exercising my right arm's swing. There's nothing no one can do to change my mind."

Soul's eyes vibrated in his sockets, intensely examining his meister. A smirk then pulled a corner of his lips up. "Just thought I'd double check to see if your obsession was still there. Guess I'm the big idiot for doubting it wasn't. "

The bridge of Maka's nose pinched suspiciously. "What do you mean by that?"

It was Soul's turn to roll his eyes. "Come on, brainiac. Why else would I waste my time telling you about some tale my Granny told me? You _know_ what I'm talking about."

Despite the upset pout upturning her bottom lip, light red soon colored Maka's cheeks. She snapped her head away, like she was trying to hide it, and his smirk pulled ever higher.

At first, it was surprising-and frankly to him, very jarring-how Maka came to forgive and care for a person raised to be a killer. But he knew the earnest caring of her soul must be the reason why, and if he had learned anything through resonance training, it's that bonds-no matter how absurdly strange they can be-don't need to explained or understood, but trusted and believed in; just like Maka trusted Crona in being alive within Asura and Crona trusted and believed in her now for her impending return.

"Whatever." Maka finally said. "We have a moon to get to, and I've had enough of waiting. You and I have conquered the impossible, and we're going to do it again, whether people like it or not this time." She walked a couple steps before pausing, looking at Soul. "By the way, you know those folklore tales are a complete joke, right? They always make things sound so hopeless and it hardly feels like every possibility for the characters to be together is explored."

"Is that so?" Soul sarcastically mused. "And how do you know that?"

Her own smirk battled the cockiness in his. "Just shut up and follow me. I'll show you how."

The large grins felt to be permanent on both of their faces. Soul then lifted a hand, guiding it to the exit of the balcony and giving a half-bow like a chauffeur offers a seat to his client. "By all means, lead the way."


End file.
